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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285133">The Very End</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouBlitheringIdiot/pseuds/YouBlitheringIdiot'>YouBlitheringIdiot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Can Be Heroes - canon marauders ending [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>31st Oct 1981, Canon Compliant, F/M, Halloween 1981, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Not pro-Snape, Poor Harry, but yeah, canon jily, canon marauders, jily, tragic stupid ending, we can be heroes alternative ending, wolfstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:14:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouBlitheringIdiot/pseuds/YouBlitheringIdiot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Things start to unravel for the Marauders, a traitor is in their midst, and death comes to Godric's Hollow...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Can Be Heroes - canon marauders ending [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Very End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietcloud/gifts">quietcloud</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamesandthedog/gifts">Jamesandthedog</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanev91/gifts">elanev91</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For quietcloud and jamesandthedog for your support in this (!) and for Elanev91 - you liked part II so now you get part I (which you probably didn't want at all!)</p><p> </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>The Very End</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I will be king<br/>
And you<br/>
You will be queen<br/>
Though nothing<br/>
Will drive them away<br/>
We can beat them<br/>
Just for one day<br/>
We can be heroes<br/>
Just for one day</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Though nothing<br/>
Will keep us together<br/>
We could steal time<br/>
Just for one day<br/>
We can be heroes<br/>
For ever and ever<br/>
What d'you say?</em>
</p><p><em>Heroes</em> David Bowie (1977)</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Note</span> </strong>
</p><p>This is Part I of the canon ending to the marauders’ story.</p><p>If anyone is interested in reading the entire backstory, the marauders from after The Prank at the end of 5<sup>th</sup> Year in Hogwarts to Halloween 1981, you can read <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512868">We Can Be Heroes</a> (which btw has a happy ending!).</p><p>But you can just read this, my version of 31<sup>st</sup> Oct 1981.</p><p>If you have read We Can Be Heroes, this is the tragic/canon ending version (and you will see why certain parts are included/different)</p><p>Part II : <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658001">It's Not the Cold that Seeps into his Bones</a> is Sirius’ POV and already published and you can read it now.</p><p>Part III will be Remus’ POV and will be published tomorrow probably </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>1979</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“Water,” Regulus croaked, holding out the goblet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Master will die, Kreacher cannot leave him here!” Kreacher said, his voice filling with panic as he looked in Regulus’ haunted eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Go! That is an order, Kreacher!” Regulus panted, his lips felt parched and an overwhelming need for water filled him. “Leave me, now!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kreacher screamed in distress even as he apparated away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No! Master Regulus cannot be left all alone!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But he was alone now, just as he had planned. He dragged himself slowly to the edge of the lake, feeling disorientated, desperate thirst overwhelming him. He closed his eyes. He had accomplished his goal. He wished he could have spoken to his brother one last time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You were right. I was mistaken,” he gasped, his throat parched, peering into the gloom as though he might see his brother’s accusing eyes once more. “I am sorry… tell your… tell Potter I died an honourable man, that I tried to atone for my cowardice.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>White, sightless eyes stared up at him unblinking from beneath the surface of the lake, as he leaned forward and dipped his cupped hands into the water. He wondered for a split second if Kreacher would disobey him and return to save him, his ears waiting for the sound of apparition. None came. He breathed a sigh of relief. He needed more water. He knew what would happen if he placed his hands in the water once more, but the thirst was unbearable. He closed his eyes as gaunt, skeletal hands emerged from the murky depths, grabbing a hold of his arms and hands, and pulling him down with them. He did not scream, he was not a coward. Blacks did not cry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His mother would have been proud, although she would never have understood him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>February 1980</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“Miss Trelawney, are you quite alright?” Dumbledore’s voice sounded concerned.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Trelawney’s voice had changed – a deeper, monotonous, chanting tone. There was no doubt in his mind that he was witnessing a real trance.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Heavy footsteps creaked on the narrow staircase.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oi! You! What do you think you’re playing at?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was Dumbledore’s oddity of a brother, the weirdo who kept this dirty hovel, hair askew, long nose and bushy eyebrows glaring up at him. Caught between these powerful wizards, Severus Snape knew which one he preferred to surrender to. He walked down slowly, hand on his wand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I got lost,” he said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was hard feigning repentance.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You did in your arse,” the old man scoffed, grabbing him by the scuff of the neck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Get your filthy hands-“ Snape said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck off, scumbag!” said Aberforth as with unexpected brute force he flung the younger man outside the back door of his pub, where Snape landed flat on his face in the mud. “Good riddance! Don’t show your greasy little face in here again if you want to make it out alive!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Should he tell Voldemort what he had heard? Didn’t a part of him want the war to end and Voldemort to be defeated?  To stop the endless battles, mounting risks? In which case he would be on the losing side, he reminded himself, could end up in Azkaban, would never be with Lily Evans, love of his life, unquenchable flame. He pictured Potter – his gloating face, ridiculing him, laughing at him as he was sentenced to life imprisonment, with his arm wrapped possessively around his wife, taunting him, reminding him he would never have Lily. He couldn’t bear the thought.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And this was an opportunity to win back Voldmort’s respect.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was right.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You have done well, Severus,” Voldemort said, studying Snape intently as he recounted what he had overheard. “This warning is extremely valuable to me. You have redeemed yourself. Consider your recent foolishness forgiven.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My Lord,” said Snape, bowing. “You are very generous.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The fact that a nameless, defenceless child would be killed because of the prophecy was of no great consequence to him. A huge weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>31<sup>st</sup> July 1980</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“He looks just like you, sweetie,” Lily said, beaming up at James with a look of pure joy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>James stared again – at Harry’s tiny hands, at his surprising amount of black hair, at the shape of his forehead, at his tiny, cute lips. He rubbed his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He’s far cuter,” he sighed, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders, tenderly kissing the top of her head again, like he couldn’t quite believe she was safe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding Harry against her chest, still in a daze.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I love you both so much, I can’t find enough words,” James said, as though annoyed at himself, and using the front of his T-shirt to wipe his eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t need to, James,” Lily said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It didn’t matter that she was more drained than she had ever felt in her life, that she felt worse than she did coming back from Order missions that went awry. Harry was the sweetest thing she had ever seen, and he was their baby. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so much love for someone she had just met.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>31<sup>st</sup> October 1980</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Thirteen weeks later, on October 31<sup>st</sup> 1980, Peter Pettigrew defected and became a double agent for Lord Voldemort.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>September 1981</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Prongs? Prongs! Pick up your mirror! It’s me. Fuck, Merlin, fuck! I can't... I don't… fuck!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Merlin, Pads, calm down! Are you alright? You look like shit. What happened?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I think Remus is the spy... fuck! Remus is the spy, I know he is!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t be daft.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This isn’t a joke, Prongs!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Are you out of your mind, Sirius?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t get angry, Prongs, I swear it’s the truth.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t you dare accuse Moony of-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The only people who knew about the Prewetts’ mission were-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck off, I’m not listening to your bullshit! Get some sleep, you look exhausted, old chap.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I swear to you-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And eat something, damn it! And apologise to Moony!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>October 1981</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Pettigrew, you are aware of the concept of a sell-by date?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My Lord?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Shall I spell it out for my Gryffindor spy? If fresh fruit isn’t consumed by a certain time, it rots and is thrown away.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“M-my Lord?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Find me the Potters, or else!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>……………………………</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Prongs! Thank Merlin you picked up! I’m not risking using the mirrors again after today, they have spies everywhere, I feel like someone is watching us right now. I need to be quick!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Padfoot, I’m worried about you, you don't sound-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Listen to me! I’ve done more research on the Fidelius Charm. If I die, the protection dies with me. We need a back-up plan! They’ll come for me anyway, they’ll presume it’s me, and when they do-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fucking bloody fucking -“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Shut up and listen! And when they do, they won’t realise I wasn’t the Secret Keeper. You’ll still be safe, a double layer of protection. We need to swap. We need to make Peter the Secret Keeper!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>………………………………………</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Sirius, we need to talk,” Remus said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius remained seated, his haunted eyes looking up at him devoid of happiness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, we do,” he answered eventually, reluctantly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sirius, I can’t keep doing this, sharing a flat with you knowing that you believe me to be a traitor, that I’m working for Voldemort,” Remus’ voice shook.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius pressed his lips together tightly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said after a long pause.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I can’t live like this,” Remus said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There were tears in his eyes and Sirius couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the part of him that longed to hold Remus tight and believe everything he said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I… please, Sirius, you must know I would never,” Remus’ voice sounded like he was panicking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He couldn’t keep doing this, throwing more and more complicated wards around the flat and then lying in bed wondering would Remus let Bellatrix in, or would he be found one day, murdered by his ex-lover in his sleep. It was slowly driving him insane.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re right, we can’t live like this any longer,” Sirius said quietly, digging his nails into his hands to stop him falling apart.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sirius, please,” Remus said. “I can explain, I’m not supposed to, but I’ll tell you everything…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not so long ago he would have fallen for whatever falsehoods Remus told him, anything to persuade himself that Remus was on their side.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t bother!” he said, standing up, afraid to even let Remus start to speak, in case he fell for his elaborate stories.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hadn’t they marvelled for years at how Remus always managed to get away with pranks, the only one never to get caught?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want to hear your lies!” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice hard.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sirius, you’re not yourself,” Remus whispered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> His halting voice sounding kind, how could it sound so kind, despite Sirius’ words?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t!” Sirius couldn’t keep the panic out of his own tone. “Don’t try to manipulate me. Get out!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus seemed stunned now. As though he genuinely hadn’t expected this. How?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus nodded dumbly and started walking slowly towards his room. Where was Remus going to go? He couldn’t afford to rent anywhere, would the bastard Death – Eaters give him a place to stay, a proper place, or shove him in some hovel and –</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wait! I’m leaving,” he called out after Remus.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus turned around slowly, as though composing himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Pardon?” he whispered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m going, I can’t stand this place since Prongs left, since Wormy left, it’s not home, I’ll find somewhere else,” he said, throwing on his leather jacket.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Pardon? Pad- Sirius, I can’t stay here by myself, you know I can’t afford to pay for this,” Remus said, looking at him in utter confusion.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want your money, Merlin, fuck!” Sirius said heatedly. “I just don’t want… just stay here… so Moody can keep an eye on you!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What will you…?” Remus still looked lost.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to me, Remus,” Sirius said, striding towards James and Lily’s old room and throwing a few of his clothes haphazardly into his black backpack.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sirius! Where will you go?” Remus said, and he could see the concerned expression, the worried frown.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had to get out or he would cave.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It doesn’t concern you any longer, Lupin,” he said, his throat closing as he tried to speak.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He watched Remus swallow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I won’t stop fighting Voldemort or his men, you can tell them that,” he said. “My own miserable life may be falling apart, but I never deserved any better, and that doesn’t matter, not in the greater scheme of things. The show must go on.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Seren<sup>1</sup>,” Remus took one step forward, looking as though he might burst into tears.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck off, Lupin, leave me alone!” Sirius gasped, frightened at his own weakness, his lack of willpower.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>31<sup>st</sup> October 1981</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Marvellous news, Wormtail,” Voldemort says, griping Peter’s shoulder and causing the small man to nearly faint with shock. “I haven’t felt this elated since I can’t remember when!”</p><p>Voldemort looks positively radiant, and Peter shudders under his touch.</p><p>“I sensed you were a little reluctant yesterday to tell me where the Potters are hiding, yet you yielded the information to me with surprising ease. You deserve the Dark Mark,” Voldemort says, pressing Peter’s arm with his fingers and laughing lightly as Peter stifles a scream.</p><p>“Y-y-yes, M-my Lord,” Peter says, biting his cheek.</p><p>“We shall celebrate my victory when I return,” Voldemort says, turning to Bellatrix with a fond look. “If I need backup, I shall summon you. I do not foresee any resistance. Wormtail, did you curse the Potters’ wands yesterday afternoon as I instructed?”</p><p>Peter nods. On his visit to the house in Godric’s Hollow, he had placed a <em>Celare</em><sup>2</sup> spell on both their wands.</p><p>“Excellent work,” Voldemort says, with a lazy smirk in Peter’s direction. “That spell, which I personally devised, means two things. Firstly, the more urgent the need, the more hidden the wand will remain. If the dear Mrs. Potter wants to dry some washing, or curl her hair, the wand will materialise quite readily. If a Death – Eater shows up to her home, it will likely remain at the bottom of a disused wardrobe, or under the floorboards, and resistant to wandless magic. “</p><p>Bellatrix’s shrill laughter fills the Malfoy’s Dining Room.</p><p>“How splendid, My Lord!” she gushes. “Your genius knows no bounds!”</p><p>“You flatter me, Bella,” says Voldemort, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “If Mr. Potter wants to entertain his son with some pathetic magical displays, so be it. But if Death comes knocking at his door, his wand will disappear, irretrievably, until the danger has passed.”</p><p>“Too, too clever, My Lord! Such skill!” Bellatrix clasps her hands together.</p><p>Voldemort laughs quietly, enjoying the compliments. His gaze falls on Severus Snape who is looking far too rigid to be relaxed.</p><p>“You seem very quiet, Severus,” Voldemort says, adjusting his Dark Mark cufflinks. “Anything troubling you?”</p><p>Severus says nothing, but Voldemort can see his tension rising.</p><p>“Severus, Severus,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Come along, let me hear what bothers you this beautiful day? Surely not the fact that your Mudblood will be dead before nightfall?”</p><p>He watches intently as Snape finally meets his gaze.</p><p>“Yes, My Lord,” Severus says. “I’m afraid so.”</p><p> </p><p>……………………………….</p><p> </p><p> Severus’ heart is racing, he is sure that Voldemort can see his carotid pulse beating frantically from where he stands. He had passed on some minor information to Dumbledore since becoming Dumbledore’s agent, carefully, to avoid arousing suspicion. Voldemort suspects nothing.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>Only Voldemort could make one tiny syllable sound so dangerous, so laced with threat.</p><p>“My Lord, you were right about the Mudblood. For many years I hoped to eventually…” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.</p><p>“To have her?” Voldemort says.</p><p>“Yes,” Snape says quietly.</p><p>It is the truth, although this was not how he had envisioned it.</p><p>“I see,” Voldemort says. “Despite everything?”</p><p>“Despite everything,” Snape says.</p><p>Voldemort’s face is hard to read, and not happy. Snape can feel his mouth going dry.</p><p>“Just for a short while, My Lord,” he says. “Until I tire of her.”</p><p>He needs this to look like a passing interest. What he will do when he gets Lily, safe and sound, he has yet to decide.</p><p>Voldemort sighs, pulling down his sleeves with smooth movements and fixing his collar in the grand silver floor-to-ceiling Rococo mirror.</p><p>“I cannot imagine she will come to you willingly, my dear Severus,” Voldemort speaks at last. “Not after I have murdered her husband and her only child”.</p><p>Snape’s nostrils flare for an instant.</p><p>“I see,” Voldemort smiles indulgently. “This does not trouble you, nor had you even considered it as an issue. Well, Severus, as one of my most trusted and loyal servants, I shall grant you this pathetic little request, as a show of gratitude. You may keep the Mudblood for yourself, for a limited time. A couple of weeks, shall we agree?”</p><p>“A month?” Snape says, keeping his face cold.</p><p>Voldemort inclines his head to the side.</p><p>“A month,” he shrugs. “A month should be more than adequate, Severus. After which she dies. Do not forget the injustices she has done to me.”</p><p>“My Lord, I am eternally grateful for your generosity,” Severus murmurs.</p><p>“So you should be,” Voldemort says, with a dangerous smile. “Do not ask me for any favours in the future.”</p><p>“Of course, My Lord,” Snape says. “This weakness shall be dealt with and removed.”</p><p>Voldemort glances at him and dismisses him with another sigh.</p><p>“Wormtail, come with me, I shall need your aid to apparate to the correct location,” Voldmort says, in a more jovial tone of voice.</p><p>Peter backs away from him in horror.</p><p>“Surely you cannot expect me to…” he mumbles.</p><p>Voldemort’s red eyes flash with rage.</p><p>“Of course, yes, immediately, My Lord,” Peter blurts out.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>…………………………………………</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Pity we can’t dress Harry up for Halloween and take him out Trick or Treating to our Muggle neighbours,” Lily smiles at Harry, who is looking up at his father with wonder in his luminous eyes. “We could dress him up as a pumpkin.”</p><p>James looks at Harry and grimaces dramatically.</p><p>“Pumpkin?” he says in horror. “A wolf, or a scary dog, or even his favourite stag, surely? Or a baby dragon?”</p><p>“Pumpkin babies are adorable,” Lily says.</p><p>“I’m terribly sorry, Prongslet,” James says, ruffling Harry’s sticking-up, messy hair fondly. “Your mother has daft ideas at times. She agreed to marry me, you know, case in point!”</p><p>Lily shrugs as though conceding a point, her eyes sparkling. </p><p><br/>
“More! More!” Harry says, clapping his chubby hands excitedly.</p><p>“Oh well then,” James chuckles quietly, his skilled hand twirling the wand in a complex pattern mid-air, as coloured puffs of smoke shoot out from the end of his wand.</p><p>A red train, a black dog, a huge orange pumpkin, a white full moon, a purple witch’s hat – the shimmering wisps floating around the room, chasing each other, until they disappear.</p><p>Harry laughs aloud and then yawns widely.<br/>
“Bedtime,” Lily says, looking at James like he is the best father in the world.</p><p>“No” Harry shakes his head fiercely, before he yawns even wider.</p><p>“Bedtime,” James nods, coming over to kiss Lily on her cheek, always kissing her, and placing Harry in her outstretched arms.</p><p>He is thrilled at the news that Lily is pregnant again. He hadn’t wanted Harry to grow up all alone with no friends or siblings to play with. It was a risk, but they were stuck in Godric’s Hollow for the foreseeable future, and they had decided it was worth it. <em>What’s life without a little risk?</em> He thinks to himself.</p><p>“Dada!” says Harry, pouting and pointing at his wand. “All gone?”</p><p>“All gone, sweetie,” James says, throwing his wand on the couch and tenderly kissing the top of Harry’s head. “Night, night, Harry. Love you Googolplex and Graham’s Number<sup>3</sup>.”</p><p>“Night, night, Dada,” said Harry, smiling up at James and yawning loudly once more. “Googoo!”</p><p>James smiles.</p><p>“Come on, Harry, let’s have a bath and then Mama will get you to sleep in no time after we read you a story,” Lily says, smiling over at her husband.</p><p>Her emerald eyes shine with joy and he feels his heart swell. He is the luckiest man alive.</p><p>“I love you,” he says, smiling again at his beautiful, tired wife.</p><p>“I know<sup>4</sup>,” Lily grins back.</p><p>That was the last muggle film they had dared to watch in the cinema, he adored it. Maybe after Harry falls asleep, they might stick up a silencing charm and make love. He thinks back to his impromptu striptease last night, how he had made Lily laugh, and he smiles once more, a fond look.</p><p>“Mama, Towy!” Harry says, looking at Lily with delight as she walks with him towards the stairs.</p><p>“<em>Hop on Pop</em> by Dr. Seuss?” she says, placing his little legs on either side of her left hip.</p><p>“Hop, hop!” Harry nods vehemently. “Mama, Towy!”</p><p>“How did I guess?” Lily’s laughter drifted back to James as they disappear up the stairs.</p><p>James smiles to himself, looking around for his wand distractedly. He’s sure he had left it on the couch a few seconds ago.</p><p>“Bandy, what the hell is wrong with you, old thing? You’ve been in a foul mood all day!” says James glancing at their kneazle.</p><p>Bandit snarls, hissing and spitting at the window, tail high, her back arched, fur standing up, sharp nails scratching the glass in a rage. Frowning, James walks over to the window seat and stops in his tracks. Voldemort is walking down the garden path, alone, his wand out, aimed at the front door. He will reach the house in the next few seconds.</p><p>He is here to kill Harry.</p><p>There is no time.</p><p>“Lily, take Harry and go!” he shouts, desperately looking around the room for his wand. “<em>Accio wand!”</em></p><p>He was always excellent at wandless magic. Why not now?</p><p>There is no time.</p><p>He runs into the hall.</p><p>“It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!” </p><p>“James!” he hears Lily scream.</p><p>Voldemort’s spell blasts through the front door, and James feels himself knocked backwards, struggling to regain his balance.</p><p>Voldemort steps over the threshold and James moved towards him, blocking the stairs, empty-handed. His left hand is raised, instinctively, but he has no wand.</p><p>Voldemort sees it and smiles triumphantly, as though he had expected this.</p><p>“Time for your precious son to die, James Potter,” Voldemort says silently, invading James’ mind.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Over my dead body,” James’ silent reply.<br/>
<br/>
He can’t stop Voldemort, useless, a failed husband and a failed father.</p><p>
  <em>“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…”<sup>5</sup></em>
</p><p>Unbidden, an image flashes in his mind – Each year, a Marauders’ tradition, they had stood beside Sirius as he faced his parents, at the start of every school holiday. James standing on his right, left hand on his right shoulder, and Remus standing on his left, quoting those lines, in his beautiful, quiet, steady, voice. Peter raising an invisible sword in the air, Sirius accepting it gracefully.</p><p>Except this time, Peter’s sword is real and remains in his hand, pointing straight at James’ heart, and as he watches in confusion, Peter runs the blade through it.<br/>
<br/>
James recoils at the image. Had Peter betrayed them? Surely not, he would never… Voldemort had somehow managed to extract the information-<br/>
<br/>
Voldemort laughs, delight in his eyes. He raises his wand.</p><p>“Scared, Potter?” he asks silently.</p><p>James looks back, uncomprehending. He is terrified for his family, terrified that he failed them. But afraid for himself? It is the farthest thing from his mind. Perhaps if he gives Lily time, whatever time he has, she may figure out a way to get Harry out, perhaps they will make it. There is always hope, until the very end.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><em>I love you, Lily, you and Harry, and baby Mia<sup>6</sup>, </em>he thinks.</p><p>“<em>Avada Kedavra!“</em> Voldemort says.</p><p>The green light fills the cramped hallway, it lights the pram pushed against the wall, it makes the banisters glow like lightning rods, and James Potter falls like a marionette whose strings were cut<sup>7</sup>.</p><p> </p><p>……………………………………</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He knows something is wrong. Horribly wrong. His hands won’t stop shaking, his brain is screaming at him to do something.</p><p>G<em>et them out</em>.</p><p>
  <em>GET THEM OUT!</em>
</p><p>He can’t understand why, pacing up and down the dingy interior of his Hostel bedroom. In the end, he grabs his bike and heads South, to reassure himself that Peter is safe.</p><p>But Peter’s flat, the new one he is renting near his parents, is empty. Eerily quiet. It was supposed to be Peter’s day off, a Saturday, and Peter always liked to lounge about in the afternoons when he wasn’t on Order business. There are no wards.He hasn’t bothered putting up any wards.</p><p>
  <em>He hasn’t bothered putting up any wards.</em>
</p><p>As though he feels safe in the knowledge that no Death-Eater will try to enter his flat. As though he knows he is safe…</p><p>But that would mean that…</p><p>“Fuck,” Sirius says, agitation gripping him even further. “Fuck, he can’t possibly… no way…”</p><p>But then why does he feel that something awful is about to…</p><p>“Merlin, fuck!” he says through his teeth.</p><p>He rushes out to where he has parked his motorbike and turns the key, petrol fumes engulfing him immediately. <em>Peter couldn’t be the spy, there is just no way…</em></p><p>He has to make sure the Potters are alright. He can’t apparate to Godric’s Hollow now he is no longer the Secret Keeper, Peter is the only one who can get there, he isn’t even sure will he be able to see the house or anyone in it, why the fuck had he ever decided to entrust that role to Peter, James hadn’t wanted him to…</p><p>
  <em>Does this mean Remus is innocent? </em>
</p><p>“Fuck! Merlin, fuck!” he hisses in panic, putting his foot down and switching on Elverndork Mode, next to the speedometer.</p><p>He rolls on the throttle, twisting his right wrist and releasing the clutch lever with his left hand as with a roar, the bike speeds down the street and launches itself into the air, in front of a terrified cat, an elderly man on a bicycle who wobbles precariously and two middle-aged women chatting outside the front door who watch him disappear into the dark sky in stunned silence.</p><p>“Dear gods, please let them be alright,” he repeats, his nausea and panic and horror growing. “Not this, oh fuck, not this, please! Please!”</p><p>Hurtling through the sky at ever increasing speed, aware at any moment the machine may disintegrate beneath him, heart pounding in his ribcage, <em>what have I done, what have I done, what have I done…</em></p><p>His thoughts stuck in a loop, like a scratched record, gnawing at every nerve fibre, squeezing his chest until he thinks he might combust with the confusion and the horror and the dawning, terrible realisation…</p><p>
  <em>What have I done?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>…………………………………………….</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“James!” she tries to scream.</p><p>But she can’t speak, overcome with dread. The moment she has always feared. James throwing himself in front of Voldemort.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Harry is looking at her solemnly.</p><p>“Mama?” he asks. “Oh-oh! Dada?”</p><p>Trembling, she places him in his cot and stares again at the place she had left her wand. Well out of reach, above the baby changer, on the chest of drawers. It is gone. And she can’t apparate, even if she found it. New and dangerous anti-apparition wards have been erected around the property. Their own protective wards smell of cinnamon and feel like thick silk. These smell of acid and feel like barbed wire.</p><p>“<em>Accio wand</em>!”</p><p>Nothing. She hears Voldemort’s laugh.</p><p>
  <em>“Avada-“</em>
</p><p>“No!” she cries, running out from Harry’s room, and stops short.</p><p>
  <em>“Kedavra!”</em>
</p><p>He is dead. Her beautiful, gallant lad, dead.</p><p>Something breaks within her.</p><p>She sees his thin, triumphant, greedy smile. Tom Riddle looks up at her and places his booted foot on top of her dead husband’s chest, on top of James, and steps over him. She sees red. She has never truly, fully, hated anyone before. She has never felt less afraid. She wants to kill him, murder him, with her bare hands.</p><p>
  <em>Harry…</em>
</p><p>He is coming for Harry. She stumbles backwards, eyes still locked with the old wizards’, and closes the door behind her. Barricades the door.</p><p>Futile. Pointless. Pathetic.</p><p>He is coming for Harry. Where is her wand? How could she be so stupid? So careless? Her chest implodes with self-blame, with the horror. What would James think? What will he say to her if they meet, if there is an afterlife? That James was wandless facing Riddle is lost on her.</p><p>“Mama loves you so much, Harry,” she cooes quietly, kissing the top of Harry’s head, tears falling down her cheeks.</p><p>How did Voldemort find them? She doesn’t have time to think. Harry looks up at her with remarkably similar eyes, now scared.</p><p>“Googoo,” he says, and raises his chubby arms up, a request to be lifted into Mummy’s arms.</p><p>“Googolplex and-“ she says.</p><p>The door shatters, large splinters of wood exploding into the room. She holds Harry in front of her, holds him tight, frantic, shielding him with her back, her head bent down. A piece of wood flies towards the window and it shatters too, spraying glass fragments everywhere. She feels tiny glass shards embed themselves into the backs of her legs, shoulders, neck. She turns to face Riddle. He walks into the room, unhurried, still smiling. She stands in front of Harry, hiding her son, not wanting Harry to have to see this man. Harry starts to cry.</p><p>Futile. Pointless. Pathetic.</p><p>He is not interested in her, he is coming for Harry.</p><p>“Not Harry, not Harry, Please!” she says, despite knowing he is not a man to be swayed by pity, that begging will achieve nothing.</p><p>“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl,” he says, lazily, flicking his wand towards the left as though to move her along.</p><p>Lily stares back, uncomprehending, gripping the sides of the cot.</p><p>“Not Harry, please, have mercy!” she says, and her voice sounds desperate, but angry, fury consuming her very blood.</p><p>“Mama!” Harry sobs.</p><p>“Stand aside,” he repeats, irritably, two short flicks of his wand.</p><p>“No!” she says, finally understanding him, disbelief replaced by fury and disgust as she looks back at him.</p><p>He has rarely seen such defiance.</p><p>His eyes narrow and he changes his mind in an instant. She cannot stop him, as he raises his wand once more.</p><p>“<em>Avada Kedavra</em>!” he intones coldly.</p><p>She crumples to the ground in front of Harry’s cot. The child is screaming, inconsolably, and Voldemort winces at the sound. He glances at Severus’ mudblood – at her futile death, pointless, pathetic. It will save him having to kill her in a few weeks, which would have delayed the inevitable. Severus will understand, once he gets over his initial disappointment.</p><p>He has never felt less threatened as he points his wand at the crying child.</p><p><em>“Avada Kedavra</em>!” he smiles.</p><p>Pain.</p><p>Pain, and then, oblivion.</p><p> </p><p>…………………………………….</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The blast causes the side of the cottage to explode, bricks and wood, roof tiles and glass, wallpaper, curtains, baby clothes, blown outwards. He watches from behind the hedge, terrified. Something has gone wrong. He waits, he listens. There is no sign of Voldemort. The child is crying, still bawling, inconsolably. Something went wrong, badly wrong, and Voldemort is dead. He had looked forward to this moment, when he could breathe a sigh of relief, finally, and stop worrying about dying in this war. But now he fears for his life. They will never forgive him. Sirius Black will know he betrayed them. He thinks he can just about make out James’ body in the hall. He feels a wave of guilt and he pushes it down immediately. The other Marauders would never have switched sides. They would have died rather than join Voldemort. All he wanted was to survive, to back the winning side, to live. Was that so wrong? A smell of smoke and burning.</p><p>The distant roar of a motorcycle fills the air. Sirius. Sirius Black will kill him if he finds him here.</p><p>He guesses Sirius will come after him, he knows where Peter lives.</p><p>Sirius is always so predictable. </p><p>He needs time to think. He apparates. The only sound is that of a child, crying.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*************************</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Notes</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em><sup>1</sup>Seren – star (Welsh)</em>
</p><p><sup>2</sup>Celare –  Latin, to hide</p><p><sup>3</sup>Googolplex and Graham’s Number – hugest numbers possible (for sappy explanation, see <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512868/chapters/50773204">Chapter 40</a> of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512868">We Can Be Heroes</a>)</p><p><sup>4 </sup>Quote from <em>The Empire Strikes Back</em> (1980)</p><p>
  <em><sup>5</sup>Shakespeare, Henry V, Battle Speech at Harfleur</em>
</p><p><em><sup>6 </sup>James knew their next child would be a girl (see </em><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512868">We Can Be Heroes</a>)</p><p><em><sup>6</sup>Quote from </em> <a href="https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Harry_Potter_and_the_Deathly_Hallows"> <em>Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</em> </a></p><p> </p><p>The Very End; Part II : <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658001">It's Not the Cold that Seeps into his Bones</a></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fuck canon is all I say, this is a ridiculously angsty AU that I don't vibe with ... any comments very welcome at this stupid time (when apparently we either want angsty angst or complete comedy...)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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